MY Dexter
by HPANDHGFOREVA
Summary: Bookverse. Brian reflects on his past with Dexter and the event that lead to him becoming the Ice Truck Killer. This is my first Dexter fanfiction I have posted so read and be nice. lol.


Dexter

**Dexter challenge: 9**

**Hellos to the peoples! While this isn't my first Dexter fanfic it is the only can post. This is however the first one I have written with Brian as the main character. So don't be too harsh. Also as usual this is in the Jeff Lindsey version aka based of the events that happened in the book. Hope you enjoy.**

**Warnings: well I would like to think that if you have read the books and seen the show you can pretty much handle anything in this fairly mild fic**

**Pairing: none**

**Disclaimer: Don't own, would be awful if I did. My parents are scared enough already. Lol.**

Dexter. My younger brother. My _obsession_. My _possession_. He has always been mine. Will always be mine. He is just a little confused at the moment. I understand. I was a little confused to at the start. You see all this began even before we witnessed the Traumatic Event. I was his hero, he worshipped me and for that I would spend all of my time playing with him and helping him. But then our mother and those three other men were killed in front of our eyes. Ripped to shreds with a chainsaw in a chaos of blood and flying body parts. I can still hear the echoes of our screams and cries before and we were left in all that… _blood_. Evening just thinking about it sets my teeth on edge. Such a horrible, messy substance. I was almost doing those women a favour by ridding them of it. They didn't see it that way though.

Days passed and we were found only they stole him away from me too. I remember being so confused as to what was happening; only no one would tell me. I was taken to _that_ place where I was examined about how the Traumatic Event affected me but it proved inconclusive. Too soon to tell they said. Growing up was frustrating. I could tell that I was different and I pretended so hard to be **normal** that it would make my cheeks ache from smiling with an empty happiness. I didn't know it then but I was also learning caution. When I found out that it was possible to be released if you were found to be stable and **normal** I tried even harder to pretend and so I took up acting classes, I practised using manners, faking smiles, reading about psychology, all with the goal of getting my brother back.

I don't know what I expected to find when I did get him back. I have tried to answer that question many times since then but then closest I have come to an answer is that I was searching for the only living person that ever made me feel something. Anything. So I hid. Hid my true self from all that would fear it. Hid from all those that would use it against me. My life became a play starring a shy but polite boy who was very clever and hardworking. But I was **'normal'**. As the years passed I began to take computer courses to learn more and to track down my brother.

It was a few years before I was released when people started to go missing. They were never found but they all followed the same pattern. They were killers. It didn't take me long to figure this out but it gave me something to focus on when I wasn't busy.

Then the day came. I was free and now I could begin creating a plan. I got a job and an apartment. I bought second hand furniture and the best computer on the market. Before I could begin this I needed to have everything sorted out. I continued to take computer classes. Finding my brother after that was not a simple task as he was no longer Dexter Moser. Dexter _Morgan_. Another thing stripped from me. He had become someone else. Someone else's son, someone else's brother after all this Dexter had a sister. A fake sister named Deborah. I can't handle that. I don't share very well. I also find out that he works as a forensic for the Miami police and specialises in of all things… _blood spatter._

Seeing him for the first time in over 30 years was a rush. He was definitely more slender but we could have been twins. We even have the same eyes. Not of course referring to their colour which is also the same but the emptiness. I was too late. He had been damaged. No one else would see it unless they knew what to look for. I don't care though, even if I could for now we are as one mind, body and spirit.

Over the next few weeks I am as close to him as his shadow. There is not a single breath he takes that I am not aware of. It is only natural then that I got the chance to see him in action. It was an incredibly beautiful sight to watch as my younger brother released himself from the restraints of his apparent and nauseating **normality**. It was only after I had finished savouring the memory that I realised he was the cause of those disappearances and if I had been capable of feelings I probably would have been very proud of my brothers success in the kill. Especially since he has wracked up a death toll far greater than my own.

But he was disabled. He was reborn as perfectly as I but they did not see things as clearly as I. they clipped the wings of a bird about to soar. Each moment I watched him I could see he was being restrained. Held back from his true potential. But I realised that the only way he would ever be 'healed' is if I showed him what was broken and so that's what I did. Each move I had made had to be perfect and act either as a trigger or a message. He would know. He had to understand. For this I would have to rely on a prediction that he would not only understand but keep it to himself. He would have to or risk being linked to the hookers deaths.

I only allowed myself to witness his reaction to my fifth death and I knew I had done it right. I could see it in the glow of his eyes. He was not blinded to its beauty, the beauty that others thought repulsive. I have taken extra care with this one. I wanted to impress him with my technique and mastery of the blade and I see I have. The Barbies didn't work out the way I wanted them to but at least they achieved some purpose. They were supposed to be a reminder of what he was and now is. He used to love Barbies when he was little.

I was tempted. So tempted to see his reaction to the alter, my final piece before our reunion. That was truly my finest piece and I knew that he would recognise that. He would probably had a chuckle at how I left the remaining limbs in the closet. That was also my final clue.

Everything was falling into place and I was finding this all too good to be true. When the moment finally came to capture the pretender I felt… Nothing. But then again I wasn't really expecting to feel anything anyway. What? Did you think I was going to feel elated or something? My prediction was true though. He knew and didn't tell. That's when things went wrong.

After he finally remembered the past he was supposed to join me. He was supposed to help me cut the ties that were holding him back from being the artist he was supposed to be. Only my plan hadn't included the knowledge that someone else had known about him. Had known enough to prevent Dexter from reaching his true potential. Enough to have made **MY** brother think that it would be wrong to dispose of a quivering mass of living human flesh laid out so perfectly all because they had pretended to be his sister and stolen him away for all those years. NO! I would not stand it. But then he didn't kill me either or even attempt it so I will try again later. Now was no longer the time for this.

I understand now. He was just confused. He is mine after all and will always be mine. My _possession_. My _obsession_. My younger brother. Dexter.

**Thankyou for reading. I hope you enjoyed reading it and express it through reviews. THANKYOU!**


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